CLASSIFIED: Female Autobot Files
by Onyx17
Summary: A drabble series of events within the female Autobot HQ back on Cybertron, with various cameos from some of our favourite mechs. WARNING: Multi-verse, girl-talk, degrees of bitchiness and typical femme stuff.
1. Business

**Prompt: **Business

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

Chromia never thought herself a paranoid or pessimistic femme; she'd consider herself more of a cynic, or even a realist on a good day. She wouldn't say that _every_ act of kindness always had to have an ulterior motive...though generally they did. After all, she was a femme who spent an unhealthy portion of her younger years scraping a living in the slums of Dead End. Suffice it to say that you were more likely to spontaneously grow a tail and morph into an organic than come across catch-free acts of kindness in that place.

But call her what you would, at that moment the blue femme would bet every last gun she had at her disposal (which believe you me, could sufficiently equip a small army) that Firestar was by no means acting out of pure sparked generosity. The red femme graced Chromia with a bright grin, taking the seat opposite her.

Through narrowed optics, the weapons specialist scrutinized both the smiling 'bot and the high-grade energon cube being offered to her. Chromia had known Firestar for many millennia and, while they may be good friends, neither was predisposed to random acts of generosity like this. Such deeds were always either spawned from a dept being owed, or, as Chromia suspected now, they wanted a favour.

Leaning back in her chair to better survey the femme, she crossed her arms and frowned, "Ok Firestar. Whatever it is you want, spit it out" Chromia was never one to mince words.

The red femme's smile morphed into a confused facade, "What are you talking about Chr-"

She stopped as the blue 'bot casually swiped the cube from her hand and downed it in one swig. It dropped back onto the table with a light clang, little droplets of energon sprinkling around it.

"Don't give me that _innocent_ look Star" she snapped, using the back of a hand to wipe her mouth, "First you take my patrol shift, then you retrieve my bazooka from the battlefield, and now high-grade! There're only ever two conditions where you pull this kind of slag-charity and seen as I don't recall saving your aft lately in battle, I want to know what you want" Optics never leaving the femme, Chromia absently plucked up the empty cube and tossed it over her shoulder into the nearby waste receptacle.

While most bots would be rendered mute at the complete candour and lack of tact in the statement, Firestar was well adapt to dealing with the weapons specialist's attitude. Faceplates no longer strained in that annoying 'innocent surprise' expression, the search and rescue femme returned her friend's suspicious glare with neutral calmness.

After a brief stare down, Firestar expelled hot air from her intakes in a defeated sigh, a hand rubbing the side of her helm as she briefly offlined her optics.

"I'm not going to lie to you" she began solemnly, "Aside from Inferno, you're probably the one 'bot that I would fully trust with my own sparkling's life" Blue optics widened substantially at this. To any bot (femme and mech alike), that was perhaps the greatest form of trust they could bestow on each other. It was one thing to trust someone with their own spark; they did that on a day to day basis. But to trust another with their sparkling's life...That was something else.

And never, in a million vorns, did the blue femme think anyone would trust her, Chromia, 'trigger-happy, gruff and harsh, tough as nails, with a fiery temper and violent streak to match' Chromia, with their sparkling.

Two bright optics onlined and locked gazes with her, "I have to ask a large favour of you. I'll understand if you don't accept, but please hear me out" the pure sincerity laced in her tone was enough to garner the femme's absolute attention. She gave a short nod, not trusting herself to speak.

"It's about Flareup. Now hear me out!" she added hastily, noticing how Chromia's expression flitted from staid and attentive to an irritated scowl. With a struggle, the blue femme swallowed her distain towards the impulsive and eccentric overgrown sparkling in favour of listening to her friend.

Satisfied, Firestar continued, "We've been on several search and rescue missions together since she received her femme upgrades" she hesitated before adding in a lower tone, "They haven't gone too well"

Chromia raised an optic ridge, "Define 'too well'" Firestar gave her an even stare.

"Three cave-ins, seven wild fires, two Decepticon detections, and an _increase_ in injuries; both for those to be rescued and herself" she listed off. Chromia was unable to fight the smirk crawling across her face.

"That bad eh?" she chuckled, "Guess the kid's not cut out for search and res-" she froze mid-sentence. The sharp sting of realisation cut into her like an electro whip and her smirk completely evaporated,"...Oh no"

Firestar's expression remained unchanged, "Like you said; she's not suited for stealth missions"

Chromia's optics were wide in dread, "Bu-"

"Offense is clearly her strength. But, all things in consideration, I probably should have noticed this earlier" the red femme continued.

"Ugh...I don-"

"I can't teach her in that aspect" Firestar stated, optics steadily fixed on the 'bot desperately avoiding her gaze and shifting in her seat. Had the situation not been both highly personal and serious to Firestar, she probably would have taken great pride and amusement in making the 'Iron-Maiden' known as Chromia squirm in nervousness.

"Umm..."

"But you can" and there it was. Direct hit. Perfectly executed. A true 'Firestar Move', Chromia thought sourly. "Chromia, please take Flareup as your student. She has the potential; she just needs someone to give her the appropriate guidance. Please, I'm asking this not only as your friend...but as a creator" the tone of her voice was perfectly steady, but Chromia knew desperation when she saw it; and Firestar's face was etched with it.

Flareup _was_ practically the red femme's sparkling and it was only natural that Firestar would want the kid to be trained to the best of her abilities, with the best instruction possible. And Chromia would be lying if she were to say there was anyone on base better suited then herself....but still. Chromia found the youngling's loud, brash demeanour and insufferable arrogance endlessly irksome, and any suggestions (on the part of Elita or Firestar) that Chromia herself had once been like that were brutally brushed aside with vigour.

Blue optics offline, Chromia gave a long, deep sigh with a whoosh of her intakes. Firestar remained patiently silent; even as Chromia rose from her seat and began to haltingly pace the length of the rec-room. Firestar knew that whatever her answer, Chromia would do what felt right; if she didn't want to mentor Flareup, she wouldn't. Friends or not, the weapons specialist was never the type to do something she didn't feel comfortable with...or in this case, would annoy the slag out of her.

After just over a breem, the recurring clack of metallic footsteps ceased; replaced by shoulder gears whining in defeat. Back facing Firestar, the femme's posture notably straightened, arms crossed firmly in front of her.

"You realise that kid is going to go through the Pit and back, right?" her voice was completely serious, but earned a wide grin from the red femme nonetheless; soon morphing into an amused smirk.

"I wouldn't have it any other way" she drawled, optics brightening, "She could do with some straightening out; I've never been much good with punishments" she added with a light shrug.

Chromia gave an amused snort in return, turning on her heel to face the femme. Firestar was unsurprised to see the weapons specialist's faceplates had grown into the all too familiar predatorial grin she bore after having taken out a particularly strong enemy.

"Rest assured, she shall be straightened out. Even if I have to take her apart and reconstruct her myself" shrugging blue shoulders in a mockery of innocence, she added, "You opened this can of turbo-worms, my friend. If the kid hates you for it; not my fault"

Firestar returned her smirk, leaning her chin on the back of one hand, "I think she'll be far too busy hating you, my friend" she stated sweetly.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Moar femme stories 8D These will be less personal than 'What Lies Beneath' and have more to do with the day to day events in the femme base. Be warned, there'll probably be femmes in this that you mightn't know and only ever had VERY minor roles in the comics/cartoons/whatever; take Flareup for example [if you want to find out about her, go to wiki Transformers] But there shall be no [and I mean NO] OC's!

On an off note, I just threw in that thing about Chromia growing up in Dead End for the sake of establishing her 'tough-gal' mystique ;D


	2. Drive

**Prompt: **Drive

**Characters: **Moonracer, Road Rage, Drag Strip, Wildrider

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

Moonracer hissed a curse as the roar of rapidly approaching car engines assaulted her audios. How had a simple patrol mission somehow turned into a full on death race?

"DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE LITTLE FEMME! You ain't gonna get away from me!" a psychotic voice cackled above the thundering noise. Oh yeah.

The cyan femme had no notion as to why Stunticons were even on Cybertron, let alone in this sector. Nonetheless, as soon as the two 'Cons (whom she identified as Wildrider and Drag Strip) had spotted her, no time had been wasted in gunning their engines in pursuit.

A rough ram to her rear bumper caused her to rev in discomfort, followed by a maniacal cackle. The sharp-shooter inwardly winced; she'd heard enough rumours from the 'Bots on Earth about Wildrider's mindset...none particularly favourable towards her current predicament.

A flash of yellow filled her optics as Drag Strip veered in front of her, bumper practically touching her hood. Attempting to reverse on impulse, she was graced with another rough shove from behind; courtesy of Wildrider. With an aggravated whine of her tires, she knew that she was wholly trapped....and slagged. She gave an inner grimace, feeling the engines of the other cars shuddering in what could only be glee.

"Going somewhere?" Wildrider purred from behind her. Drag Strip chuckled darkly.

"Did'ya honestly think y'could outrace me?" he drawled, almost conversationally. Another rough shove from behind served to ram her slightly into the yellow car. Her intakes hissed as she felt some metal buckle on impact; but gave no vocal indication of her discomfort.

"Hey, careful Rider! Don't ruin the pretty femme's paintjob" he mockingly reprimanded. Wildrider merely cackled, the action sending unpleasant shudders through Moonracer's frame.

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he muttered darkly, giving a more prolonged shove and louder rev of his engine. Moonracer felt her fuel pump twist in anger. She sharply braked and took a sliver of satisfaction at the sound of smashing headlights, but this feeling was short lived; a snarl coupled with a particularly harsh shove sent her colliding into Drag Strip, sufficiently smashing her own headlights in turn.

"Slag! Watch it Rider!" he growled, his own rear metal having buckled with the impact. The black Ferrari ignored him, driving his hood brutally into Moonracer's bumper. The femme inwardly winced as she felt more metal and circuitry whine as it was crushed.

"You're gonna regret that femme" he hissed, previous malicious delight replaced with icy fury. The sharp-shooter silently weighed her options. Transforming at her current speed was out of the question; if Wildrider didn't plough her down, the friction of hitting the ground would still critically damage her legs, leaving her completely helpless to an attack by the two 'Cons. Other than that she was underenergised, trapped, overpowered, outnumbered-

"EAT MY METAL SLAG STRIP!"

Moonracer felt time momentarily freeze as something red, metallic and very, very fast smashed into Drag Strip, sending the yelping Stunticon flying into a nearby wall.

"What the frag?! HEY-!" Wildrider growled as Moonracer wasted no time in pulling a sharp U-turn, effectively freeing herself from the black car's hood. Snarling, the Ferrari spun on its wheels in an attempt to see just what the frag had taken Drag strip by-

"TAKE THIS GLITCH!"

-surprise.

Having transformed to better survey the area, Moonracer watched through widened optics as Road Rage mercilessly tore through the Stunticon. The cyan femme winced as she saw, with a splatter of energon, a good portion of his backstrut come loose and fly several feet away. The red Corvette's engine continued to growl threateningly, her tires ominously swerving around the groaning Stunticons.

Slowly, almost gingerly, the femme transformed; tangerine optics dim and anxious, "Sorry I took so long Moonracer" she apologised, awkwardly rubbing the back of her helm. The sharp-shooter rose onto unsteady legs, ignoring the throbbing pain ebbing from them.

Gracing Road Rage with a good natured grin she giggled, "Hey, better late than never...but ugh" her optics fell onto the battered forms lying groaning on either side of the road, "You sure know how to make an entrance" The colossal femme shifted awkwardly.

"I do tend to get a little...carried away when in my alt-mode" she muttered, embarrassed. Moonracer gave another light laugh.

"I'm not complaining, trust me" she winked, "They had it coming"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Umm...when I said female base, I actually meant events outside of it as well...I need to be more clear OwO;

Anyways, Stunticons are bad boys! Dangerous for pretty lone femmes; silly Moonracer. At least she had her 'Knight in Shining Armour'...sort of. Road Rage seems like such a funny character XD you should check her out on Transformers Wiki; I can imagine Wildrider becoming completely enamoured with her in her alt-form, only to realise she's sane when in her robot one X] yes I have a weird train of thought.


	3. Rush

**Prompt: **Rush

**Characters: **Vibes, Chromia

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

Vibes flipped over a deactivated guard-drone, expertly dodging enemy fire traced on her back. She took up a defensive crouch behind a metallic crate, gun securely prepped for reprisal.

"Vibes, relay your position" Chromia barked into the com-link.

"I'm right behind 'em; where're you?" she responded, tumbling away from a falling ceiling beam. A grunt of pain was heard, not over the com, but somewhere to her right. She jerked her head in said direction, optics falling on the slouched, smoking form of Chromia.

"Ouch, that looks bad" she mumbled unhelpfully; shifting closer. The blue femme managed a smirk, despite the substantial energon leak and severely charred armour of her legs.

"You think this is bad, you should see the slagger who tried to sneak up on me" she coughed out a static laced laugh. Golden visor flickering in amusement, Vibes made a move to call Firestar...only to be stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Too many drones" Chromia grunted, expression stern. As if to confirm her statement, a barrage of laser blasts suddenly rained from above them. The red femme instantly rolled to her feet while simultaneously firing of three shots from her photon canon. With a loud crackle and high-pitched whine the hover-drone hit the ground, sparks flying and limbs twitching.

Vibes silently performed a thermal scan; several large heat signatures, aside from hers and Chromia's, were present in the warehouse. A small smirk crept across her faceplates; looks like the 'Cons decided to clump together into a nice little group. Though admittedly, such acts were to be expected from guard drones; single-minded and uninventive.

"How did a drone manage t'get ya so bad?" Vibes found herself asking. Chromia scowled, bitterness radiating from her.

"It was a fragging self-destructing one...How the slag was I supposed to know that?" she grumbled, defensively.

Vibes chuckled, "So I guess that's what ya meant when ya said he was worse off than ya?" an aggravated scowl that screamed 'drop it' was all she received in response.

Visor brightening in zeal, the red femme rose to her full height, "Time to make some slag outta these clockwork bots" she grinned, charging her cannon in preparation. Chromia managed a weak, crackly snigger.

"Give them one for me" she smirked.

With a salute, Vibes gracefully flipped over the crate; spinning and concurrently firing her canon in mid-air. Her feet hit the ground with a resounding clang; several hover-drones following shortly after. She kicked off from the ground, tumble rolling behind a pile of scrap, laser blasts singeing her pedes.

Her intakes were working overtime; energon pumping furiously through her frame. A pounding sensation ebbed from her spark. Gears and joints throbbed from exertion. Hot, stinging scorch marks graced her armour.

For one brief klik, Vibes lost herself in the moment; the ache of her wounds, the fear of deactivation, the pounding of her processor. It was all both overwhelming...and invigorating. Living in the moment, no time to think about the past, unable to think about the future; nothing but pure intuition and skill. It was times like these that truly separated the protoforms from the bots.

A laser blast seared the air next to her audio, bringing the femme hurtling back to the present.

She grinned, visor darkening and canon rumbling with charged energy. Hauling a large slab of metal over her shoulder as a makeshift shield, Vibes tore out from behind her shelter.

"Let's do this thing, 'Cons!"

What was it the humans called it...adrenaline? Well, whatever the case; Vibes felt a rush of something run through her right then. Something empowering and more energising than three cubes of high-grade. She felt it; from her pedes to the tip of her helm. And by Primus she was gonna use it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Flower K. Owl wanted to see a little something with Vibes in it xD Hope you like! Again, for anyone who doesn't know Vibes, you can check her out on Transformers Wiki.

Sorry it's so short, but I was sort of stuck for inspiration :/ If anyone else has any canon femmes they'd like to see appear (or prompts/suggestions) feel free to let me know ;D


	4. Tea Party

**Prompt: **Tea Party

_Transformers (c) Habsro_

* * *

Chromia gazed with undisguised distain at the object placed in front of her.

"What is _that_?" the femme made no attempt to hide the utter disgust from her voice.

"It's an energon cube, Chromia" Moonracer muttered discreetly to her. Chromia shot a glare that sent the sharp-shooter recoiling.

"I know _that_! I mean, why is it that colour?" she growled, making a harsh jab at it with her fore-finger. The cubes, which were _meant_ to be transparent so as to display the quality and amount of energon contained, had been...altered. They now sported some bizarre pattern of a type of flora in a selection of colours for each femme. Chromia's was a pastel blue with darker blue patterns decorating it.

Flareup snorted from across the table, "It's for _aesthetic_ purposes" she stated, knowingly. Chromia felt her optic twitch at the brats condescending tone. Before the brewing argument could arise, Vibes cut in.

"They're part of the tea party!" she announced happily. This prompted several confused looks to be directed at her.

"Tea party?" Elita uncertainly examined her own fuchsia cube, optics dim with puzzlement.

The red femme nodded enthusiastically, "Me an' Flareup were talkin' to some a' the guys back on Earth and we ended up discussin' the different customs for the males and females of the humans" her grin widened, "Not sure how we got onto the subject of tea parties, but we both thought it seemed like a load'a fun" she nodded towards Flareup.

The orange femme grinned, "The femmes of the humans get together into these little groups where they drink some weird liquid called _tea_" she shrugged slightly, "And basically they talk about their lives and glitch over femme issues and stuff"

Firestar raised an optic ridge, "It sounds just like an energon drinking session" Flareup shook her head, frowning slightly.

"Nah, it's different! It's way more...ugh...what's the word...?" her optics drifted, trying to think of the most apt description.

"Classy!" Vibes cut in. Flareup snapped her fingers.

"That's right! It's classy 'cos you don't get overcharged; they don't drink any alcohol at these things so we're just sticking to low-grade" she stated, raising her own cube with a wink.

Moonracer frowned slightly, "No high-grade? ...None? At all?!" She paused at the deadpan expressions she received, gingerly tapping her fingers together. "Well...I guess it could be..._alright_..." she forced a twitching smile.

Chromia rolled her optics, "So it's still basically an energon drinking session...only one where no one gets wasted" she drawled, absently swirling the contents of her cube. Vibes gave a good natured chuckle.

"We figured it'd seem a little boring to you guys. So, we took the liberty of making some modifications to the energon" she tapped her own cube, "Take a swig and see what ya think" Flareup nodded excitedly.

When no one reacted, all optics in the room shifted to Moonracer. Blinking twice, the femme gave a sheepish grin.

"Umm...I've already drank mine" she gingerly shook her now very empty green cube. A group session of optic rolling ensued.

"I swear Moonracer, I'm starting to think you might have a drinking problem" Firestar muttered, leaning her chin on the back of her hand. The sharp-shooter giggled meekly.

"So what'cha think of the energon?" Vibes questioned eagerly.

"Oh, yeah! It was really odd-! Oh! Not in a bad way though!" she quickly added at the two disenchanted expressions, hastily waving her hands, "It was...sweet" she stated uncertainly.

Elita raised an optic ridge, "Sweet?" Moonracer gave a nod, tapping her chin in thought.

"And it wasn't like normal energon. I mean, it satisfied my appetite. But the flavour sort of left me wanting more..." she trailed off, optics slyly meeting Flareups. "Is there any more?"

The orange femme beamed, "Slag yeah! We made plenty" she grinned, hauling up a portable energon dispenser onto the table. "Help yourself" No further invitation needed, Moonracer had a fresh helping and was back seated in the next klik.

Firestar sent a mildly disapproving look, "You do remember that we are in a war and rations are scarce?" Vibes crossed her arms with a shrewd grin.

"Would you believe that we only used a single cube to put this batch together?" Moonracer choked on her half swallowed mouthful of the sweet energon.

"One cube?! But...there must be enough here for over twelve femmes!" Firestar exclaimed, astounded. Flareup's grin matched Vibes'.

"We just mixed it up with a whole load of...umm...what is it the humans call it?" she asked Vibes.

"Sucrose" she responded, taking a gulp from her own red cube. Chromia instinctively performed an online search of the word. She almost cringed at the results she got.

"Do you have any idea what kind of slag this stuff does to humans? Namely their teeth" her faceplates morphed into a disgusted scowl. Vibes and Flareup simultaneously shrugged.

"Doesn't do anything to us though" the red femme stated, grin weakening slightly at Chromia's obstinacy. Elita and Firestar had already begun sipping theirs, and Moonracer was already on her fifth cube for Primus' sake...of course, _that_ was Moonracer.

"And how do you know that?" the blue femme continued, arms crossed and frown set.

"We've been drinking it for over the past mega-cycle" Flareup impatiently stated.

"...And _that's_ supposed to convince me that it doesn't affect us?"

"Oh har-di-har-har!"

"Come on Chromia, I'm sure it's safe" Elita chuckled, optics glinting in amusement. The blue femme continued to scowl, the picture of stubbornness. Firestar smirked, lightly nudging the weapons expert with her elbow.

"You know they'll just keep hounding you until you do" she muttered, "May as well get it over with"

Optics brightening, then dimming in resignation Chromia sighed, "Fine, but if my internals start to decay, I'm going to personally replace them with one of yours" she grumbled before throwing back the contents of her cube.

Vibes gave a light snigger before drawling, "So..." her visor glinted mischievously over her cube, "Anyone got any dirt they want to share?"

* * *

Several joors later found the femmes with a thoroughly empty energon dispenser, six long forgotten equally empty cubes, and intakes that would be hurting for the next mega-cycle.

"Ok, there's no way I'm going to believe _that_!" Firestar got out between laughs, pedes leisurely resting on another chair. Elita nodded, her own face split into an uncharacteristically silly grin.

"I'm serious! The first time, he really didn't know where to put it" she placed her hand on the side of her face, "Oh Primus, I remember I was at a loss over whether to throw something or laugh my aft off" Chromia barked out a laugh.

"Oh slag! I honestly cannot picture Prime being _that_ naive" she snickered. Moonracer managed to quell her own giggles.

"I remember when I used to go out with Powerglide...there was this time we actually tried it in the air!" Flareup burst out cackling.

"Wow, kinky!" Vibes sounded genuinely impressed. Moonracer nodded, expression thoughtful.

"Yeah it _sounds_ good...but ugh...there were some issues with the umm..._connection_" her voice crackled as she restrained her budding laughter. Firestar's optics brightened in interest.

"Oh...? What happened?"

"Well...ugh...it's more...what _didn't_ happen" the cyan femme croaked out.

A heavy silence followed this. But, once again, the chorus of loud, exuberant high-pitched laughter shook the walls of the rec-room and had its occupants all but doubled over in hysterics.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_It's....sort of a tea party O,O; I'm guessing it was probably Jazz who brought up the idea (the guy knows friggin more about Earth than we do!) And yes, I support energon-holic Moonracer 8D_

_Anyways, yeah...typical female stuff ;D The innuendos at the end were my own personal highlight XD 'Cos, as we all know, everything (even/especially for robots) comes back to sex ;3 Poor poor Powerglide that's the risk you take with experimenting X'D _


	5. Aim

_Transformers © Hasbro_

_Characters: Roulette, two unfortunate guard drones_

_

* * *

_

Roulette waited. She could feel the tickling spikes of energy pulsating around her frame. A monotonous droning hum of dozens of systems conversing sang to her audios; the only other noises being a sporadically occurring drip-drop of oil from a thin ceiling leak, and a dying crackle from an energy surge sparking out of a torn wire.

Roulette remained stationary, frame set and optics offline; she knew better than to rely on them in a place like this. Her gun felt light in her grasp, its cobalt metal cool against her overheated hands. She couldn't know where or how the enemy would emerge…or if they would at all. She couldn't know if her comrades would require her assistance, or if they were even still online. A sense of worry pinched her spark as she thought of her sister, but shook it off. They could both take care of themselves…she knew that by now.

A single throb of heat energy to her far right sent the femme into action.

She pulled a sharp twist to the left, flipping her gun into her opposite hand and its systems charged with a purr. Blue optics online and veiling the dark communications room into a haze of azure, she sent a single sonic blast searing from the barrel and straight through the sensitive internals of the guard drone.

No more than the beginnings of a high-pitched keen emitted from the drone before its systems gave out and died with a drawn out whine. The whole room seemed to go temporarily silent, even the computers hum halting in its mantra.

Roulette carefully approached her stricken target. The rooms light dimmed as her optics narrowed, a focussed beam now drilling into the buzzing form in front of her. She gazed at the charred hole in the metallic helm; her shot had been neat, focussed and lethal. But she was unsatisfied.

"Missed…"

Gun rising along with her arm, she aligned the barrel with the bleeping red light less than an inch above where her blast had impacted. Another muted shot emitted from the blaster, forcing a sharp jerk and fresh sparks flying from the offline drone. Roulette waited for the electric licks and pulsing heat waves to simmer before crouching low to inspect it.

She vented a quiet sigh from her intakes at the thoroughly devastated alert-node. Every femme in Elita One's unit knew that once offlined, all drones sent an automatic intruder alert back to the nearest Decepticon HQ. Because of this, they had to be certain to either completely obliterate their helms, or hit them with enough accuracy to not only offline them, but destroy the node as well. And considering the node itself was about the size of the average optic, this required an immense amount of shooting precision.

"Hmph" the youngling rose from her crouch and ambled across the room; absently tossing the gun into her other hand, "How could I miss? The thing was right in front of me…" she muttered.

Roulette knew she still had a long way to go before she was anywhere near as good a sharpshooter as Moonracer was; that didn't stop her from constantly comparing herself to the cyan femme though.

Aim was the key. She needed to perfect her aim to a tee. No room for faltering or slip-ups. If she were to ever work alongside the mechs, gain their respect, become someone who could truly protect others, she needed to work harder.

"Still, wasn't a bad shot though…" she mumbled, small frame settling into her previous hiding spot beneath the communications console, gun prepped against her knees and optics offline.

Soon she felt that same constricting tension coil around her anew. The steady electrical breathing of the room returned, sending a slight shiver down her backstrut. Her other hand rose to tighten around her gun, pedes uneasily shifting over one another.

Roulette briefly wondered if there was something very off in her processor if she found herself actually wanting another drone to attack.

She didn't have long to ponder this before another spike in heat came from several feet in front of her.

Ready.

She rolled to the side, hissing in pain as a single shot singed her leg but shook it off and set her frame upright.

Aim.

Her gun raised automatically, both arms perpendicular to her body and barrel in perfect alignment with the target.

Fire.

A single burst of white light momentarily trounced the blue glow of the room. Her optics locked on the drone as it fell back, red light sparking twice before crackling out.

Her lip curled up in a small smile.

"Bull's-eye"

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm…willing to bet good money here that hardly anyone knows who Roulette is, amirite? =x Weeeeeell, if you do know her AWESHOME! If you don't, still AWESHOME!....Yeah, I go in a weird mood when sleep deprived O,9

Annnnyways, I just wrote this real quick-like seen as I wanted to both update this yoke as well as include one of the femme twins in it XD And yeah, here Roulette is meant to be a youngling; I wanted to show some variety in the ages of the femme base.

As I've said, I wrote this both quickly and while sleep deprived =,= so please forgive the crappyness that I'm sure is there. Peace out =B


	6. Call

**Prompt: **Call

**Characters: **Elita One, Sideswipe, Prowl, Optimus Prime

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

Elita One's foot tapped with steady, impatient clacks, steely pink arms crossed and posture straight but agitated. The only other sounds in the room emanated from the gargantuan communications system; electric ruffles of static jumbled with beeps and pops of varying pitch from the _still_ unanswered communiqué.

She puffed out a sigh of hot air, servos rising to rub along the side of her faceplates. She'd left the message a little over a breem ago and felt her patience beginning to slip.

_Bizzzzzzzzzz_

Elita gave a rather undignified snort. It was simply _typical_ that the first instant in over a mega-cycle she gathered enough time to contact the bots on Earth there was _no one _to answer her-

"Woah! Sorry about that!" an unfamiliar, but otherwise loud and cheery voice crackled into life and cut short her silent broodings. The voice continued, "Only people in base right now are me and three others; had to practically sprint from the other side of the Ark to get here…Anyways, what's up?" Elita vented a relieved sigh, draining herself of the pent up frustration she'd accumulated in her waiting time.

"It's alright…I'm sorry but could you activate the monitor?"

"Oh right! Hehe, I'll just…ugh…hold on a second…" Elita raised an optic ridge. A _second_? What in Primus' name…

She shook it off; strange Earth lingo no doubt. She'd long since discovered from her lengthy conversations with Optimus that picking up earthen phrases was one of the _many_ consequences of having been stationed there for so long. A fondness for something called _basketball_ was another.

For the next klik all that could be heard over the communication speakers were static muffled curses and gracelessly shuffling pedes. Finally, a mech came into view when a broad red and black frame filled the screen. Regrettably the mech himself was just as unfamiliar to her as his voice was…Elita abhorred awkward introductions.

"Hey! Sorry about that" he grinned broadly and gave a single wink, "I'm not exactly used to using this thing…technically I'm not authorised to, but whatever. You can keep a secret right babe?"

Elita blanched at the informal manner with which the mech spoke to her. _Babe_…? She was so familiarized to being addressed as "ma'am" or "commander" that this left her feeling rather unbalanced, to say the least.

"So anyways, Prime and the rest of the top guys aren't home right now. Can I take a message?" he dropped into the chair opposite the monitor and crossed his arms behind his helm.

Oh well, no sense dawdling.

"Umm, yes that would probably be best…Could you tell him that-"

"My name's Sideswipe by the way" the mech cut in, optics bright and fixed on her own. Elita paused, uncertain of what exactly she was supposed to do with that information.

"…..Ok…um…As I was saying, if you could tell Optimus that-"

"What was yours?" his voice stopped her again.

She stared at him in silence for a moment, then slowly replied, "Elita One" The mech gave a crooked grin.

"Pretty. Anyway, you were saying?"

Elita gazed searchingly at the mech, who returned her stare with unbridled innocence.

"If you could just tell Optimus that I called and I would…would appreciate a response at the…um…the earliest date…" her voice wavered in clarity as she noticed Sideswipes optics flicker away from her faceplates, grin still very much in place. What was he…? Surely he couldn't be…

Elita's sudden lapse into silence had apparently recaptured his attention as Sideswipe's optics snapped back to her own, dogged grin still firmly set. Elita let a slight frown crease her optic ridges.

"Sideswipe, you do know who I am correct?"

"Huh…? What do you…Yeah, you're Elita" he gave her a slightly confused look, "You just told me babe"

Elita blinked.

"You don't know my...rank?"

Sideswipe's puzzlement only seemed to deepen, "Well, no I mean…I just met you…What are you, like forth in command or something?"

Elita frowned, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I mean…come on! You couldn't be any higher than that. You're way too young" he said with a slight chuckle. Elita felt her faceplates stretch in surprise, frown dissipating

"Too…young…?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, you can't be much older than me right? Sure, you're mature and speak formally and everything, but you look young to me"

Elita was fairly certain that her blatantly stunned expression, slowly developing an elated glow, threw another layer of confusion over the steadily growing mound in Sideswipe's processor.

"And ugh…how young would you say?" she casually questioned, desperately attempting to keep her composure.

"Ugh…Roughly, I'd say twenty-five…maybe thirty thousand vorns at the most…" he guessed, rubbing the back of his helm.

Well if he was confused before it was probably safe to say that he was outright _bewildered_ at the sudden astonished beam that lit her entire expression. Elita felt an irrepressible giddy air overtake her; something she attempted to quickly remedy by softly clearing her intakes in what she hoped a dignified manner.

"Well, ahem, that's very…flattering, Sideswipe" she got out, optics a happy shade of azure, "But I-"

"Ah, hold that thought babe" he hastily cut in, jerking his helm in the direction of something off-screen. Whatever is was it seemed to have garnered his rapt and rather fearful attention. Slowly a nervous grin stretched across his faceplates.

"Hehe, hey Prowl….How was the ugh-"

"Why are you at the communications monitor, Sideswipe?" a familiar, crisp tone cut him off. Elita inwardly winced in sympathy for the young mech; doubtless the SIC would be less than impressed with his breaking of regulations.

"I was…ugh, just answering this call" he hastily gestured towards the monitor. Soon a familiar black and white frame stepped into view, though Prowl seemed to be too engaged in piercing Sideswipe with a reprimanding frown to discern the caller.

"You know you are unauthorised to use this console; you are not even supposed to be in this room. Have you forgotten a certain incident in which you-"

"Awww, come on! That was _mega-cycles_ ago! Red Alert got over it, why can't you?"

"He _only_ got over it because it caused his processor to fritz to the point where it reset itself, hence removing all memory data of the incident" he sharply responded, icy optics drilling into the sour-faced mech.

"But I had to answer the call!" he protested, "What was I supposed to do? Leave it to go to voice mail?"

"The _proper_ action would have been to get one of the bases other two occupants, who _were_ authorised to be in here, to answer it" Prowl was clearly unmoved by the mech's plight. Elita felt a rush of sympathy for Sideswipe, not to mention a twinge of guilt considering she was the one who had called in the first place.

"Excuse me, Prowl" she finally cut in. Two sets of optics flicked towards her; one set vaguely surprised, the other clearly screaming 'run while you can'.

The SIC quickly gathered himself, tone suitably formal, "Elita, my apologies we were unable to properly answer your call. There was an unforeseen event involving the Decepticons"

"It's not a problem Prowl" she responded with a half-smile, "Tell me, is Optimus-"

"Elita" a recognizable and pleasantly sonorous voice spoke from off-screen just as an equally familiar impressive red and blue frame appeared, "It's good to hear from you again"

The femme let her smile grow ever so slightly, "Likewise"

A comfortable silence set in before both gazes switched towards the two still present. Prowl quickly corrected himself.

"We'll leave you to your reports" he briskly stated, giving both commanders a polite nod and Sideswipe a foreboding frown before making a bee-line towards the exit. Sideswipe gave Elita a crooked grin as he moved out of the chair and reluctantly followed the SIC out.

Elita gave him a parting smile as he left.

"Optimus?" she enquired after the door hissed shut.

"Yes?"

"Could you do me a favour?"

The Prime blinked in mild surprise, "Certainly….Are you in need of further base repairs? I believe Hoist is currently immersed in a project, but Grapple may be able to-"

"No, no, it's nothing serious" she amusedly cut in, optics still glowing with grand jubilation. The Prime canted his head slightly in query, a silent request for her to elaborate.

With a brief clearing of intakes, the femme commander innocently asked, "Could you make sure Prowl goes easy on Sideswipe in future punishments?"

Now _that_ garnered a definite look of shock from Optimus…Well, with the facemask it was difficult to be sure, but the widened blue optic's evident increase in brilliance served as a decent indication.

He remained silent for a moment, uncertain of _how_ exactly to respond to such an unanticipated and altogether rather unsettling request. In the end all that he could formulate as a response was an unintelligent "Ummm….why?"

Elita gave a crooked grin and small shrug, "He was very polite"

* * *

**Author's Note: **…..Yeah, Elita likes being told she still looks like she did several million years ago XD But then again, who WOULDN'T?! And yes, Sideswipe _was_ checking her out [_shot_] Whaaaaaat? I thought it was funny D: And no, Sideswipe didn't know her rank nor question why Prowl and Optimus spoke to Elita like they did….He's unobservant ok?!

A simple explanation for this was that I wanted to write something with Elita in it. Bringing back a little more focus on the femmes most people know, plus she's the leader and all that ;D


	7. Sick

**Prompt: **Sick

**Characters: **Glyph, Firestar

_Transformers © Hasbro_

_

* * *

The room burred with a soft mechanistic hum, distant clangs brushing its confines every few kliks. Glyph gazed dully beyond the room's porthole out into the light speckled void of space. Though appreciating celestial beauty was the last thing on her processor…._

A groaning lurch from the ship sent her frame tipping forwards slightly. The movement was nowhere near enough to prompt any sort of tumble or fall….but it did trigger something far less pleasant for the femme.

A guttural chug and painful throb from her fuel pump was all the warning she needed. Glyph despairingly launched herself at the nearby waste receptacle. Retracting her facemask with a soft chink, she then set to emptying every drop of fuel reserves from her power pack into the bin's confines.

* * *

Firestar slowly ambled down the hallway, stopping outside a door considerably smaller than those flanking it. Elita had a fairly reasonable argument that one's acquisitions should meet one's needs; or in other words, small frame begets small quarters. Understandable considering their drastically limited resources, but that didn't make it any less of a pain for Firestar. Having to stoop every time she came here grew wholly tiresome after the first fifteen trips, worse since she was perhaps the tallest femme of Elita's forces, Glyph's door just coming to a stop at her hip.

With a sigh she bent to rap her knuckles against the dark metal, the clacking sound reverberating through the halls confines. Firestar waited a klik and received no answer. Unsurprising…

She com. messaged the scientist. "Glyph, it's Firestar. I'm coming in ok?"

A brief crackle supplemented by an unhealthy splutter of what sounded like 'ok' was the response. Firestar felt a pang of sympathy for the archaeometrist, quickly keying in the security override code. A nanosecond later the door hissed open revealing a slumped, limp blue frame. Her small servo rose and flopped in a mockery of a wave.

Firestar quenched the urge to roll her optics, awkwardly shuffling into the room on her hands and knees.

"So" she casually began, resting back on her haunches and raising an optic ridge. "I'm guessing there's been no improvement?"

A shaky groan left the scientist and her frame tensed as though to sit upright, but promptly slackened once again; a renewed bout of purging following after.

"I'll take that as a no" she muttered, reaching into her subspace and pulling out a fresh waste receptacle and small cube of fizzing, colourless energon.

Glyph's vents whirred shakily and she managed to gain a sufficient respite for Firestar to replace the vat. The archaeometrist paused as a gurgling sensation rippled through fuel pump, but rested back on her knees when nothing happened. The red femme frowned at her.

"I'm not a medic, but slag if this isn't the worst case of space-travel sickness I've ever seen" She cautiously shifted the container out of the way and handed her the medicinal energon. Glyph pressed the glass to her lips with shaking servos, clearly forcing the drink on her less than cooperative power pack and taste neurons. "Is it always this bad?" Firestar asked.

The scientist forced a mouthful of the insipid liquid down her throat tubing and muttered, "I've always had it… Though it has gotten worse since my extensive period on Archa Nine" She revved a sigh, reluctantly sipping at the fizzing solution. Firestar hummed.

"I'm guessing the long period of time with no space-travel left your systems pretty….unprepared, to say the least" she mussed, shuffling her way back towards door while disinterestedly removing the used receptacle. "Does the energon seem to be helping?"

Glyph released a puff of hot air from her intakes, golden visor dim.

"I suppose we'll find out the next time the ship-"

She stopped at metallic sound of beams straining and cogs turning, signifying the barest shift in their course.

Firestar sighed when the cube hit the floor, contents sloshing and small droplets jumping over the glass. The archaeometrist resignedly flopped atop the gleaming receptacle, frame tense and lurching. The red femme shook her head before calling in:

"I'll get another bucket"

* * *

**A/N: **Ah, poor Glyph XD but as the resident nerdette, I'm afraid she's my target for this kind of misfortune. Luckily she's got Firestar to share the misery 8D

Random fact: I get sea sick, but not Glyph's kind. The kind where you constantly feel like you're about to get sick…but don't D: Bleh! =6


	8. Party Crasher SG

**Prompt: **Party Crasher

**Characters: **Moonracer, Chromia, cameo from Jazz, Blaster, Ricochet and Goldbug

_Transformers © Hasbro_

* * *

"Bang! You're dead"

The optic-scope's red glass shifted to another glossy frame.

"Bang! You're dead"

It moved on to the leading chancellor. Tall, bulky, and oh so killable.

"Bang!" A nasally giggle. "You're dead"

"Would you knock it off, already?!" The eye-scope spun to zoom in on her glaring companion.

"Wow! Chromia, you're faceplates look awful. When's the last time you buffed?" Another trying titter. Chromia's optic twitched.

"Focus. Back. On. The. Delegates. You sorry, sorry excuse for a shooter" she snarled through clenched dentals. Moonracer's optic rolled.

"This is so boring!" She sulkily pivoted the scope, training it on the speaker; or as Moonracer liked to call him, Mr. Walking-Target. "It would be so, so easy to just off any one of them!"

"How do you think I feel? Any idea how tempting the idea of shoving my canon through your spark is?" she scoffed, "If I can reign in my urges, you can do the same"

The cyan femme made a sorrowful noise.

"But Chromia! I thought we were friends!" she sobbed. "I'm wounded. You have left me hurt and wounded"

"I wish"

"The verbal barbs just keep coming!"

"Quiet. There they are" Chromia stepped forwards and gazed down into the throng of frames coagulated in the ballroom. Red optics narrowed in scrutiny as she put names to each of the four bots; Blaster, Jazz, Ricochet, and Goldbug.

"Aww, sweet! Can I start shootin now?! That big guy is just beggin for it!"

"No! Our orders are to wait for the signal" she snapped, optics trained on the leisurely moving 'Bots. Moonracer huffed, impatiently drumming her fingers against the rifles black metal.

"Dum-di-dum-dum-dum" she hummed. Chromia felt her optic twitch again, blue servos clenching of their own accord, imagining them wrung about the irritating femme's neck.

Another nasally giggle came from the sharp-shooter.

"Hey, Chromia! Think Jazz and Blaster are doing each other?"

Chromia offlined her optics, summoning every morsel of patience from her being.

"What the frag does it matter?" she ground out. A small shrug was the response.

"Dunno, who do'ya think'd be the top?"

"Moonracer. Just…_focus_!" she bit out. Oh, the idea of pushing the precariously positioned femme from the ceiling beam was never quite so enticing.

"Yeah, yeah" the sniper giggled. Red optics whirred back online and flickered realising she'd lost sight of where the mechs had ambled off to.

"Frag" Chromia growled.

"Now, is that a good 'frag' or a bad 'frag'?"

"When is frag ever good?" the blue femme snapped.

"Well...." Moonracer tapped her chin in a mockery of deep thought. "If followed by 'yeah' it's good. Or if yelled in the middle of interfacing its usually good but-" The rest of the sharpshooters sentence came out as a yelp of pain. Chromia only had so much patience and when pushed to its limit, violence was the only probable outcome. The weapons expert flexed her slightly dented fist. Slag, why was the little glitches helm so hard?

"Damn Chromia, that was so not cool!" The cyan femme glared petulantly up at her, rubbing the side of her helm. "Well, _someone_ hasn't been getting any!" And there was that same irksome snigger as before.

Chromia growled and resisted the urge to kick her, optics flitting back to the crowd. Finally she caught sight of the telltale black and white frame.

"There they are" she muttered to herself, leaning expectantly over the ceiling beam. And right where they're supposed to be. Nice. Moonracer eagerly hopped back up, gun prepped.

"My trigger-finger is itching! Are they ready yet?"

"Shut up! Almost" Chromia watched as the four mechs took up position at opposing points of the hall. She could practically feel her companion shaking with brimming anticipation. Her hand rose as a signal for the sniper to wait, optics intently alternating between each of the mechs' movements.

Both femmes were stock-still and waited.

Finally, after what seemed like joors, a red visor flickered up and met Chromia's gaze. Interesting how, even from a distance, Jazz's maniacal grin was clear as ever.

The gun's shot wasn't muted. There was no need. After all, the purpose _was_ to attract attention. The sudden audio shattering blast sent the halls occupants into hysterics.

Chromia didn't even need to bring her hand down. The nanosecond after Jazz's shot made contact with one of the delegates, Moonracer's rifle had already sent a blast tearing through the air and towards the speaker.

"Bang! You're dead" she cackled. The chancellor stumbled before plummeting from the stage into the oil-fountain below.

Three more successive laser blasts keened from below as several more delegates were shot down. Moonracer pivoted to face her companion.

"Hah, I feel better now! Nothin' like killing to make you feel alive, am I right?" she grinned crookedly, rifle spinning in one hand. Chromia rolled her optics.

"Whatever. Let's just move before-"

"You there! Freeze!"

Both femmes did, but only for a moment. Chromia slowly turned half-way round, optics landing on three colossal guards. Moonracer poked her head around the blue femme.

"Ugh-oh! We're in trouble….someone's come along and burst our bubble-" she waited, gazing expectantly towards Chromia. "Ah, come on Big 'N Blue! You know the words"

The sharp-shooter blinked when the charging purr of canons reached her audios. She looked down to see Chromia's arm metal shifting, red-lit transformation seams opening and turning. Moonracer took a wise step backwards.

"You've had your part of the fun, Moonracer" the elder warrior drawled, dark arm cannons spinning in anticipation. Chromia let a slow, dark smirk tug at her lips. "Now, it's my turn"

With a screech of metal on metal the blue femme ducked a bulky fist, spinning and concurrently firing off both canons at the guard's legs. A cry of pain sounded from above. Chromia used his lapse in concentration to leap and punch him with the barrel of a cannon; adding to the effect by firing off several rounds deep into his faceplates.

Moonracer hauled herself atop one of the higher ceiling beams and leaned back on her hands, rifle casually laid next to her and legs swinging.

"Woo! Go Chromia!" she called, watching as the mech stumbled back, groaning in pain and clutching his face. "I love a good show. Shoot 'em in the nads!" she cackled maniacally.

Chromia smirked towards the other two guard-bots and, without looking towards the damaged mech, fired a fresh round of plasma blasts into his spark. The dying whine of a system buzzed before his frame hit the floor.

"Fatality!"

Chromia ignored the sniper's irksome laugh, optics fully trained on the two dithering guards. Smirk widening, she rose a single hand, beckoning them closer.

"Next"

* * *

**A/N: **XD I think I've made SG Moonracer into the Deadpool of this universe! The craziness, the breaking of the fourth-wall (well, not really but) etcetera. Ah well, she's a fun femme to write for :tries to imitate her manic cackle: Chromia's pretty fun too. Less of the grump she is in G1 and more of an easily angered brute who solves all problems with either fists, guns, fists and guns, or biting :D

I'm not too fond of when the SG femmes are made out to be total whores/sluts or just your generic ice-cold bitches. I like 'em to be a bit more colourful. With their own individual idiosyncrasies and such ;D


	9. Spring Cleaning

**Prompt: **Spring Cleaning

**Characters: **Moonracer, Chromia, Elita One, Arcee, Flareup, Roulette, Shadow Striker, Vibes

Transformers © Hasbro

* * *

"I wonder why this meeting was called all of a sudden" Vibes pondered from her position atop an energon dispenser. Roulette and Shadow Striker both hummed contemplatively.

"Maybe Alpha Trion made a new base for us!" Roulette suggested. Her sister snorted.

"Yeah right, 'Gramps' hasn't so much as com. pinged us since the mechs last came to this planet" she huffed.

"Hmm, do you have any idea what it could be?" Vibes asked Moonracer. The sharp shooter looked thoughtful, absently rubbing the back of her helm.

"Well, from what I've gathered in meetings, it sounds like some of the mechs _might_ be visiting here…Though I'm not sure" she shrugged.

Arcee and Vibes instantly perked up.

"Mechs? Really?!" the pink youngling beamed.

"Alright! I can't remember the last time I saw mechs who weren't trying to offline us. Should be nice" Vibes grinned.

Moonracer quirked a lopsided grin, "Oh yeah, a bold and refreshing change from what we're used to eh?" The rest giggled in agreement but jumped when the rec-room door sharply hissed open.

"Alright, listen up!" Chromia's bark caused all present to instinctively grimace. "We got a message from the guys on Earth. Some of them are coming here for a recon mission in the next dega-cycle" She quenched the urge to roll her optics at the excited murmurings that broke out.

"No way! Really?!"

"Which ones are coming?"

"Are they hot?!"

"Is Prime coming?"

"How long are they staying?!"

"Where will they stay?"

"There's room in my quarters if I kick Roulette out!"

"Shut it!" Chromia growled, "Now _listen_. You may not like it but some of you are going to have to double up and give the guys a loan of your room" She ignored the chorus of groans that followed. "Here's the set up" She activated an internal file of the rooming arrangements, "Roulette and Striker; you two will be bunking with Flareup and Vibes. Karmen and Road Rage; you guys'll have to make room for Clipper. Flip Sides, you're with Discharge and Rosanna. Arcee and Glyph are in 'Racers room. Any questions?" she finished, closing the file and focussing her gaze back to the unhappy looking femmes present.

"Do we have t-"

"Yes. Any other questions?"

"Can we change-"

"No. Anything else?"

"What about you, Elita and Firestar?" Of course the ever precocious Arcee would zone in on that one factor, the blue femme dully noted.

"If need be, Firestar said she'd take a later shift and recharge at a different time so her room would be available for the mechs. I'll probably do the same" Chromia then deadpanned, "Anyone who wants to get in the way of Prime and Elita bunking together, be my guest"

Averted optics and stifled giggles were all the reaction that garnered. Chromia snorted.

"Now beat it. Elita wants all of you to have your rooms perfect by the end of the cycle. No piles of empty cubes" She shoot a look at Moonracer. "No badly hidden 'toys' or 'datapads'" She looked to Arcee and Vibes. "No unstable rocket launchers, fragile objects with sentimental value, spare chest-plates, journals, dust, oil stains, rust blotches. Nothing" She puffed an irate sigh out of the corner of her mouth. "Then a clean sweep of the entire base"

Moonracer blinked, "The whole base? Why?"

"Because apparently it's not respectable enough for visitors right now" she droned, expression jaded.

"But it's _dudes_ that are visiting!" Arcee protested. "It's not like they'll care if it's a little messy"

Chromia crossed her arms, "Look, take it up with Elita kid. She makes the rules, I just enforce 'em"

"Take what up with me?" Ah, speak of the she-devil. Chromia turned to face the now present femme commander.

"The girls were wondering why we're bothering to make this place spotless for the guys" she queried. Elita rose an optic ridge.

"I merely wish for the base to be more…presentable then it is now. Besides, after a clean-up, chances are there will be ten times the amount of space there is now, making it that much easier to house the mechs" she reasoned.

The weapons specialist gave a conceding grunt, "Makes sense. Plus, I am getting tired of having to wade my way through layers of clutter just to get from my room to the hangar" she muttered. Elita gave a small nod.

"Exactly. To be perfectly honest, this base has had a severe drop in maintenance in the past mega-cycle and, while some of you may be content with it, let me ask you this" she calmly addressed the group, "Would you rather laze back and conform to the mech's sub-standard level of base-keeping, or do a little extra work this one time and give us all a golden opportunity to rub their nasal plates in it?" she plainly asked.

The group remained silent for a moment, brief glances and contemplating expressions exchanged. For a moment the femme commander was worried that she would actually have to give a flat-out order for them to do it; one way or another, she _was_ getting a clean base.

It was only when Moonracer gave a yielding grin and chirped out, "I'm in!" that the rest immediately conceded.

Elita let a small smile quirk her expression. It was rather interesting how Moonracer seemed to sometimes have a greater influence over the younger femmes than their commander. Probably due to her younger age and the 'big sister' rapport she established with many of them. She had acted as a mentor for many of them in the art of sharp-shooting, not to mention a babysitter for those who had been sparklings when they first arrived.

Setting aside that thought process for another cycle, Elita gave the femmes a curt nod.

"Glad to hear it. Now get to work on your own rooms. A message will be sent in the next joor on who will be cleaning which part of the base. Dismissed"

Elita was unsurprised at the lack of salutes doled out. Doubtless most of the femme's young, dynamic processors were buzzing with excitement at the prospect of seeing mechs, for some a first time experience. Of course there were the few who just differed from military formalities in general, not that Elita minded. They were all young after all; no way could the femme hold their juvenile behaviour against them. Some things were best learned through age and experience after all.

Speaking of which…

The commander turned to raise an optic ridge at the still languidly standing Chromia. All the younger femmes had since filed out of the room; most chattering animatedly, others feigning disinterest.

The blue femme blinked when she realised she was being scrutinised. Then, with an impatient scowl, rolled her optics and grudgingly trudged away grumbling, "Getting ordered to clean my room like a fragging youngling….some war"

Elita breathed a quiet laugh before turning on her heel towards her own quarters. While she was nowhere near as bad a hoarder as some of the other femmes on base, her bond-mate _was_ a substantially broader mech than most. Also, bearing in mind that their base had been built for the purpose of housing smaller femme frames, it was highly likely that even if she did manage to clear most excess property out of her room it would still be a…snug fit, to say the least. She may even be forced to recharge at a different time from Optimus; a scenario neither of them would be too happy about.

With a desolate sigh the femme strode through the rec-room and down the hallway. She passed by Roulette and Shadow Striker's room, the twins' voices carrying beyond their thick walls' confines.

"Yo, Roul! You think they guys'll mind if I leave this here?"

"I don't-…Striker…why do you even _have_ a taser in the first place?"

"….Self-defence?"

A full base clean-up? Primus, something told her this next dega-cycle was going to be the most chaotic the base has seen yet.

* * *

**A/N: **I don't know about you, but I think girls can be just as messy as guys, if not messier! I've shared rooms with them at summer-camps before and, while me and my friend always kept our bit of the room pretty tidy (cause, ya'know, we were freaks and all that ;D) their side always looked just like a clothes and make-up bomb had hit it! Then the instructor people would come by for a room inspection and the girls would basically shove everything they could fit into their suitcases! Meanwhile me and my friend were just laying on our beds like real douche-bags XD Good tiems!

Also, my mam always cleans the house like a freaking crazy-lady whenever people come to visit. So, taking inspiration from these two experiences, you get this story 8D Messy teenage fembots ordered by a concerned adult fembot to clean up for the visiting man-bots…..Cause it's not like there's a war going on or anything……

There needs to be more Viper twin love! (that's Roulette and Shadow Striker btw =S) They're like…the first cannon female twins who even had a mission _with_ the Lambo twins. Plus they've got the whole dramatic past thing going for them. Yeah they might be a little clichéd, but hey, so is Drift and there's tons of fanfics on him!…….I'm gonna stop ranting now O,O;

Anyways, I'm not thrilled with the writing quality of this chapter =/ But meh.


End file.
